


Simulacrum

by Bremmatron33



Series: Family ties [1]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers: Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-03
Updated: 2018-08-03
Packaged: 2019-06-21 05:05:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,536
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15550239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bremmatron33/pseuds/Bremmatron33
Summary: Often time tragedy breeds growth and innovation. Knock Out's learning the hard way.





	Simulacrum

Knock Out couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to share a berth with Breakdown. Before Starscream called, that he was sure. Lord Megatron didn’t care for sentimentality of any sort and Starscream usually kept him up for hours and cycles. The two rarely shared a moment when they weren’t expected to fight or work. The kindest thing they’d been allowed was to recharge next to each other in their alts. Simply because Knock Out remembered putting up a fit. Breakdown was his partner, of course, bodyguard and all that and he trusted his fellow officers as far as he could throw them, well kick them in his case. He didn’t have very good upper frame strength. It was fine really, they recharged in their alts frequently so the two were used to it...but it wasn’t the same. There was nothing like Breakdown’s strong purring engine lulling him to sleep, massive digits lazily fondling the peaked ridges and furrows of his helm or stroking his aching back. There was nothing like warm ex-vents and disjointed mumbles. That was intimacy, that was a recharge worth having. Anything else….it just made Knock Out want to just plug into the ship for a few moments for a quick jolt...just like the good old days.

“Doc? You awake?” The bot was with him now though. Knock Out could feel strong servos kneading his hip, the jitter of a restless leg. A soft kiss to his helm. “Doc?” Knock Out hummed weakly to let his partner know he had his attention. He felt himself getting picked up, settled on Breakdown’s chest. “I’m sorry to wake you up Doc.”

“You’re not. It’s fine.” Knock Out hated how disgusting he sounded in the morning, barely online and circuits gunked with static.

“Bad night doc?” He nodded, digits finding their favorite parts of Breakdown’s frame. “You wanna go for a drive? You know the Vechs won’t rat on us.” Primus, he wanted nothing more than to go on a drive.

“No. I just want to- No.” Knock Out curled up into a tight ball, his talons sinking deeper into Breakdown’s metal. One of Breakdown’s digits finally coming up to meet his, they didn’t grab or pull, the fat tips just stroking them carefully.

“Alright, Doc.” Breakdown went quiet but Knock Out could still feel that jitter in his leg. “Is...is there something else you might want to do?

Primus, more than anything. “I don’t know, can you handle it?” His tone made it sound teasing but honestly, he was just worried. He’d never taken things this far.

“Course I can Doc. You’re being silly.” He was in the air again, only briefly before he was back against the soft mattress of their berth. Breakdown slowly prying thin claws free from his chest. The weight of the bigger mech’s frame felt so comforting, not even touching him Knock Out could feel the jeep’s field all around him, warming him, protecting him. He sunk his talons back in reflexively as his frame shuddered painfully. “Knocky?”

“I-” Knock Out could feel the coolant building in his lines, his vents releasing steam in small plumes as the cold liquid pooled behind his shuttered optics. When had been the last time he’d broken down like this? Cried like this? He couldn’t remember. Could probably blame the energex on that. “I’m sorry darling it’s just been so long.” More gentle caresses soothed him slowly.

“Yeah. I know. It’s all alright now though. We made it through, we’ll keep making it through.”

“Right. Of course.” Knock Out felt a servo slide along is thigh.

“Do you still-”

“Yes.” Knock Out felt Breakdown shift above him, pecking kisses along his helm as servos moved lower.

“Anything you want Knocky.” Breakdown knew his frame better than any mech Knock Out had ever slept with, he cared for every part leaving nothing untouched. There was nothing else like his touch, nothing so warm, so loving. It was so unfair.

Knock Out let his legs fall open as Breakdown thumbed along the join of his hip, his other servo digging just under the lip of his chest plate, tugging at it teasingly till Knock Out finally transformed it back. Cool air making his exposed spark crackle and flux.

“If that ain’t a sight for sore optics. Seems like forever since I’ve gotten to see this.”

“Breaky.” Knock Out could feel the coolant rushing in his lines again. He didn’t know how much longer he could do this, how much longer he could keep things up. He tried to keep calm but as soon as Breakdown started to even tease along his casing he knew things weren’t going to last. Carefully he cycled his optics on, just for one look, one last look. Always one last look he told himself. Breakdown was there, just where he belonged. Knock Out could feel the familiar points of his helm, the curves of the side guards, the beveled diamond crest. He’d remembered every inch of Breakdown’s frame, every aspect of his personality. So well he’d practically created a perfect simulation of the mech for himself. So perfect. If only he could keep it forever.

Suddenly Breakdown’s frame was shaking with a dark menacing chuckle, once gentle servos were now crushing his throat as Breakdown rammed his head back against the berth. As the mech looked up from his task Knock Out was met with chilling purple optics. “Aww, Doc. Don’t worry. You’re stuck with me forever. Ha,ha,ha,ha~!”

* * *

 

Knock Out onlined violently in a cold sweat just as Breakdown’s jaw had begun to split. His frame curled instinctively, Knock Out falling to clutch at his knees with nothing more than a gasp and a sigh. His processor ached with all the flashing warnings. He ignored them bitterly for a moment as he tried to get his spark and frame to calm down from the shock. Carefully taking in deep invents of cool air as he wiped off his smudged optics.

Slipping from the empty berth only a moment later he dug into his personal fridge for a fresh cube. Biting into the thick gel he chugged the fuel desperate for the screaming to stop. It took a bit with his spark still flaring in his chest, equally aroused and panicked. “Seems I can’t even have a decent wet dream anymore. How utterly disappointing.”

As he usually did in times like these Knock Out slowly made his way to his small vanity. The item just as much of a comfort as the things inside it. He ran his servo over the smooth polished metal top, along the beautifully detailed trim to the drawer. He’d honestly been thinking of running, set on it really thanks to some inexcusable slight from either Ultra Magnus or Ratchet. He'd only gone in his room to pack his things and then there it was, it had just showed up in his room like a gift from primus himself. Bulkhead had made it for him, a thank you for something or other. Either the lengthy surgery to fix a mangled leg thanks to a construction accident or the new wrecking ball. Either way...it had kept him there. The two both agreed the only reason he “really” made the thing was to get Knock Out to stop bitching about how sparse and drab the rooms were. Actual thoughtfulness? Certainly not.

The weight of his buffer in his servo calmed Knock Out instantly, flipping the switch only soothing him further. There was no better sound than the old salon antique still going strong after all the years. The only thing that would have been better was the scent of Forma Prima but he’d already waxed and while there was always room for improvement on one’s finish the wax took time and money to make and he only had so many jars left. Knock Out could only thank his stars that Swindle had somehow found him the old company recipe but the ingredients to make it were still rare and costly and he was on a short leash with the Autobots. There would be no nipping off to black markets to just do a few odd jobs and pick up a few things.

At the sound Gra and Zamu popped online in just as much a hurry, the crab and rhino scurrying quickly to comfort their master. Honestly keeping Zamu around hurt more than anything but he wasn’t going to just abandon the minicon, there would be no reason for Gra to suffer too and the two wanted nothing more than to stay with him. So he dealt with it. He’d lost Breakdown too after all...plus a bit more. Zamu had never been the brightest minicon but Knock Out was sure he’d been negatively affected from being forced into emergency stasis for so long. Thankfully Gra was dealing with that.

Setting the buffer down on the tabletop Knock Out hefted up the pudgy minicon who was fruitlessly trying to climb into his lap, Gra relieved of his pulling let out a tiny thankful sigh and fell back against Knock Out’s shoulder. Zamu did a few slow turns before settling, butting his horn against Knock Out’s palm till he was rewarded with pets. His soft voice just barely audible. “You alright?”

“Yeah boss, you okay?” Knock Out let his helm rest lightly against Gra’s frame.

“I’m fine, don’t you two worry.” Zamu promptly fell onto his side.

“Hard. You’re always sad boss. We’re all sad. It’s okay.” Knock Out softly hushed the minicon.

“Shh, I know. I’m fine, really. I just…” Knock Out caught sight of himself in his vanity mirror as he picked Zamu up. “I think the simulation programming is acting up. It’s been...turning on in my recharge. I think...it might be corrupted”

“Corrupted!? But boss-”

“You’re sick!” Cutting off Gra in a panic Zamu practically rammed into Knock Out’s chest in fear, his little optic already welling with tears. “You can’t be sick! You can’t, you can’t you-”

“Zamu. Hush! I’m fine. I told you I’m fine.” Knock Out let Zamu nuzzle his face as he ran his talon’s along the rhino’s side seam. Gra doing his best too, rubbing his partner's horn calmingly.

“It’s just code Zamy. It’s just….Breakdown gave the boss the simulation programming remember? If it’s corrupted and the boss or...the other guy can’t fix it then...he might have to delete it. It’ll be gone for good. Which means no more holoprojections of Breakdown when you get down in the dumps.”

“No. No, no no!” That only caused more tears but at least the distressed minicon wasn’t ramming at his chest anymore. Knock Out stopped the minicon from burying himself in his armpit and flipped the rhino onto his back. Grabbing his snout Knock Out shook it teasingly.

“I’ll get it fixed Zamu. Don’t fret. It’s too precious not to, Breakdown or no. Let’s not fool ourselves though, right?” Zamu calmed quickly, the minicons field unwinding in an instant.

“Right boss. Yeah. You could go to Soundwave! He’s practically a computer!” Knock Out considered the idea. It was possible. He’d have absolutely nothing to do considering he was stuck in a makeshift prison with Starscream and the few vehicons who had refused to aid the Autobots. Not to mention the slagger owed him a favor for helping him out of the shadow realm and not letting the Autobots outright execute him. Though...even loathing to say it Ratchet was a safer bet. They could bring Soundwave in as a second opinion if necessary.

“I think I’ll go with Gra on this one Zamu. Ratchet should know what he’s doing. He might even be up now. So why don’t you two go back to sleep, alright? If he’s not we can watch a movie together.”

“Oh- oh! Jumanji! Jumanji!” Knock Out couldn’t help but let out an amused laugh as he settled Zamu back onto his personal berth. Gra hopping down to join him hesitantly but still too tired to really put up a fight to go with his boss.

“Of course we can watch Jumanji. I’ll sneak into Bee’s room and get it for you.”

“No need boss. I put it on our computers weeks ago. Just worry about getting yourself fixed up. You don’t need any more troubles getting to you.” Knock Out leaned down to pet Gra proudly.

“Always one step ahead of me Gra. Feel free to put it on if Zamu can’t get back to sleep. I’ll try to make this as quick as possible.” Gra shook his head in response, giving Knock Out a pointed claw poke.

“Just take your time. You’re always ready to ignore these things till they’re tearing you apart. If we're stuck with these bots squeeze em’ for all their worth. You know you can’t lie to me boss, I might not know what’s wrong but I know” Gra’s voice quickly softened to not worry Zamu,“..it’s got you freaked.”

Knock Out’s optic wandered back to his vanity, the sight of his twin specter still lingered in the glass. Still broken. Still smiling. “When you’re right…. you’re right Gra.”

* * *

 

“Explain this all to me again.”

Knock Out sighed loudly as he flopped back onto the berth, leaving Ratchet to rub at his face and look at the steady vitals for a moment before re-hashing everything again. “It’s a simulation program. You know something meant to run scenarios and test their outcomes. Probabilities of success and all that. It takes data and formulates answers and actions. The more you learn the better your rate of victory will be.”

Ratchet nodded, understanding that part just fine. “And....” Ratchet took a deep vent in and lowered his voice just a fraction. Just for the tact of if. “Breakdown gave you this program. Why? How did he even get in the first place?”

Knock Out heaved another sigh. “He was….he was a soldier by function. Can’t tell you what batch or what real function. Scout, I think he mentioned. Don’t know if he ever got a higher rank before his service was terminated. All I know was this programming was supposed to make him a killing machine. Something to be rented out to other planets. A mercenary practically. He didn’t last long before being shipped off to the Pits.”

Ratchet hummed, theorizing. “Faulty at the start.”

“Exact opposite worked too well. Not only would this thing help you during battle to make the best decisions it could train you after. You can go back and replay a fight over and over and over again. Following all the outcomes you could have made to get it perfect.”

“That’s insane! The sort of...guilt that can put on a mech-”

“Exactly.” Knock Out nervously bounced a ped. He really hated talking so openly about all this...but he had woken Ratchet from a dead set recharge so...he owed the old mech something. “But soldiers aren’t supposed to feel guilty are they? It was their function after all. Breakdown was a bad soldier. The program drove him mad. He was always second-guessing himself. Always choosing the wrong thing. Always getting yelled at. He took every loss to spark back in those cycles.”

Ratchet laughed bitterly, his servo sweeping to Knock Out. “So he gave it to you. No wonder they called you a butcher you were allowed to play Primus to the highest degree!”

“Expected to play him actually. They all knew I had it. What of it you don’t believe in Primus anyway and at least I’d tell you the truth. We were at war, it was useful. I’m not the type to look back, I….wasn’t I suppose.”

“Knock Out-” Knock Out wasn’t sure to beat Ratchet to the punch or simply let him infer what he liked....he supposed it was just that sort of day.

“There’s dozens of outcomes where he’s still with me. I knew Breakdown so well..he may as well be real. We all have our shitty ways to cope Ratchet. You stayed on earth for three years I...sometimes I just want to hear his voice again. Makes for some of the best dreams I’ll tell you that. When it’s working right.” Ratchet had turned his back to him. They were dealing in real slag now, private talk. Not simply a patient looking for help but a fellow spark just speaking things to the open air. Ratchet knew the situation well. Things like this...they didn’t want to be fixed or solved. They weren’t the problem.

“How long?”

“Since...he was taken from me.”

“And this program...it’s worked fine till then?”

“As far as I could tell...but it could have been malfunctioning for a while. Based on past events.”

Past the minefield that was personal demons Ratchet turned back to Knock Out. “Past events? Are you alluding to our time on earth?”

“Of course I am. Did you think I didn’t use it then?”

“Well-” Knock Out took over before Ratchet could say anything rude.

“It’s all a numbers game, and when you see a 95 percent you’re not thinking of the five percent chance you’ll lose till the numbers start bombing. That’s all it was. Now I’m a big enough bot to admit I was cavalier with my work for Megatron but well...if the numbers were off from the start it could explain how I failed so badly so often.” Ratchet found that highly unlikely even if Knock Out’s program was faulty.

“You rely on it quite a bit then? For more than just….”

“You could say that yes. It’s a well-used tool. Ratchet nodded, starting to pace around as he thought about the issue.

“I see...so what is wrong with it exactly?” Knock Out was hesitant to answer that, likely trying to keep things as concise as possible.

“It turns on in my recharge like I mentioned. Sometimes good, sometimes bad. Usually, once I realize it’s on I can control it. Pull myself out of nightmares and all that. I’m worried about miscalculation of course, less so because I know my own faults even if I don’t highlight them as often as you Autobots like to. There’s also-” Knock Out paused mid-sentence, his optics locked on the reflective ceiling. “It turns on when I’m awake sometimes. That could just be my systems acting ahead of my processor but...it’s unsettling.” That sounded suspiciously vague but Ratchet let it be. “I figured you could run some tests through it. Perhaps let soundwave scrub through the code. As is of course.” Again Ratchet just nodded. The fact that Knock Out was willingly going to hand over a copy of this program with all the data he’d collected over the years was an astounding feat alone. He didn’t want to say anything to get Knock Out to reconsider...but there had to be a reason that he wasn’t just doing things the easy way.

“Why not just reset it to prime standard? Factory new? What’s the harm?”

“If one’s memory banks were in perfect order? Nothing it would simply relearn everything.”

“But…”

“I’ve been knocked around quite a bit you can imagine. Not everything is salvageable. I could recreate…. Breakdown...quite easily but even he wouldn’t be wholly the same. Everything else? Well, let’s just say if old Megatron returns or if Starscream and Soundwave choose to enact a prison break I won’t be as helpful as could be right now. What’s the use of keeping memories when they only cause one pain?”

Ratchet could only hum in understanding. He’d lost quite a few memories himself...some voluntarily, so he understood. “Let’s...hook you up then I guess and I’ll see what I can manage.

* * *

 

Gra and Zamu were still sound asleep when he got back so despite his promise to watch movies with them he headed over to the dispensary in hopes Arcee or Wheeljack hadn’t finished off all the energex he’d processed. Thankfully as he peeled back a poorly tacked down metal panel his claws wrapped around the neck of a fancy bottle.

He’d just settled with his drink when Bumblebee and Smokescreen came stumbling into the previously serene commons area. Without so much as a request, they plopped down by Knock Out, bookending him between them. Their impish smiles giving them away to whatever it was they wanted.

Bee, being the more tactful of the two quickly noticed the darker color of the medic’s drink and prompted Knock Out carefully. “Whoah, bad night Knock Out?”

“Could have been worse. What do you want?” Knock Out could see the two’s egos suddenly shrink. Did he sound too curt? Probably a good thing, no need to encourage these brats coming to him for things.

“Have you...ever been to Kaon?” Bee was being overly cautious for some reason, probably because of a few nights ago when he backhanded Wheeljack for asking a few too many inappropriate questions. Knock Out appreciated a bot who didn’t try to dig but he hated the idea of anyone walking on glass around him.

He knew plenty about Kaon from books and Breakdown’s work in the factories and Pits, Starscream’s stories, but he didn’t want to have to craft stories today. He was too tired. “No, I haven’t. I didn’t join the Decepticons till Cybertron was good as dead. You need me to lie and say I have?” The two looked far more shocked than Knock Out would have guessed they’d be. How embarrassing.

Bee inched closer, his optics soft and his field open. Knock Out tried not to roll his optics. As much as Bee didn’t dig that didn’t stop him from dipping his shovel in every now and then when he thought he could. “Sort of. Magnus wants someone to go to Kaon to see if we can scrounge anything from the factories or...even see if we can get them working. See if the mines are revived or something. He wants to send Arcee and Prowl since they know the area the best but...we really want to go. Magnus said we could if we could convince you to go with us.”

A trip to Kaon? Oh boy! As if...but it beat cleanup, his back end was still aching from dragging all the heavy debris bins. “Ah, how rude of Magnus to assume. If you two really want to go I’ll lie for you. We could take Starscream out for a walk too if you can work it. He really knows Kaon.” Bee and Smokescreen shared unconvinced looks Knock Out couldn’t help but laugh. Didn’t want to deal with Prowl now did they? Smart move... “Alright, I get it. Starscream’s the last mech you want to deal with. Go then. Consider me onboard.”

And that was how he ended up stuck between the two primelets in Magnus ship armed to the denta. Regretting offering up his help. He wasn’t at all keen on leaving Gra and Zamu to Ratchet but he had to admit it was nice to have a gun in his servos again. He and Breakdown had refused to rely on them due to their high fuel consumption and risk but that didn’t mean they were foreign to him. Breakdown had his cannon and he had a blaster in his alt but for some reason, most just seemed to think he couldn’t shoot worth a damn. A poor assumption. The grenades Wheeljack had slipped him, however, were a little concerning. He’d tossed back over who knew how many bombs in his day but he’d never used the things personally.

 

It wasn’t really the new weapons making him nervous though. Kaon was supposed to be a massive city and knowing its history and a bit of the layout didn’t mean jack in the near maze-like place. He knew he wasn’t about to get them lost but a Decepticon capital would likely be booby-trapped and littered with corpses. Not the most scenic trip. He was starting to really regret offering even if he had wanted to see Kaon for himself.

It was night by the time Smokescreen managed to land the ship. Just at the city edge thanks to the towering architecture that dominated the sky. The three mechs taking their time to admire it all as they stood looking up in awe. The silence and majesty of the ruins ruined only by Smokescreens questions and the rumbling thunder in the distance.

“Is Megatron’s base close by? Kaon’s pyramid! Can we see it, can you get us in?!” Knock Out quickly thought on his peds, trying to remember the tales Starscream had told him. The base hadn’t exactly been a secret but it was difficult to find. Something about...angles and the sun. Moon in this case he supposed.

“It’s deeper in, quite a drive actually. Every building along this street is a factory and they don’t stop. You two think we should actually do some work before we sightsee?” Not like he really wanted to work but Knock Out doubted he could even get into the old Decepticon base to start with without raising some sort of archaic alarm. Thankfully Bee backed him up.

“Knock Out’s right. They’re right here and who knows what we might find delving deeper. We should take a quick look around and then get some rest.” Smokescreen agreed, a bit dejectedly and the trio slowly made their way to the closest factory.

They’d managed to do a quick tour of four of them before settling down in one. As expected they’d been cleared out of pretty much everything save for the dead but the equipment was in good condition and the lava pools beneath Kaon were burning just as bright as they’d ever been. It was suffocating to be around, the heat, the soot-caked walls, the chitter of turbofoxes and wirevipers in the ductworks. Sickening. It was better than the black rain outside, acidic enough to burn through even a good coating and so contaminated with soot that it stained in seconds.

Bee rolled up beside him as they got comfortable, clearly concerned. Knock Out hadn’t exactly been subtle about his unease, not in a strange city and not with his specter following him around, flashing off every bit of metal, even lingering like a comical vision in the smoke clouds they constantly kicked up. “Hey, you alright? You’ve been...quiet. I know you’ve never seen Kaon before and it’s...pretty interesting to explore but it’s not that interesting. Wait till we finally get to Iacon. H-have you been to Iacon?”

Surprised, Knock Out broke his gaze from the dilapidated facsimile of himself now lingering in the broken glass of the windows that lined one wall of the small break room they found. He quickly calmed his spark before resetting his vocalizer and turning one of his side mirrors to Bee. “No I- I’m fine Bee. I meant no I haven’t been to Iacon.” As expected that only made the Bot suspicious.

“You sure? On both counts? I don’t know anyone still functioning that hasn’t been to Iacon. I know you said you joined the Cons late but...it’s Iacon. I thought everyone had to go at least once..get their functions and all that.” Knock Out hummed dismissively as he turned his mirror back in.

“I know just as much about it as I do Kaon. I was...lucky. I had sires who actually wanted me, took care of me. I didn’t have to do much and there were actually multiple census and assignment buildings. Not just in Iacon. ” Knock Out knew he shouldn’t be so fast and loose with his life but it was better to answer the vague questions than the important ones. Who cared if he’d never been to Iacon.

“Like….guardians...mentors? Or like...actual parents?” Knock Out clucked at Bee’s use of the human word….but that had been what Gasglow and Mach were...truly.

“Both, let’s not demean the bond between sire and sparkling now Bumblebee. But~ If you’re asking if they were the direct contributors to my spark CNA….yes. They were.” Knock Out could feel Bee’s field come alive as his whole front end suddenly inched closer to him.

“Really! Like for real, they managed to keep you, forge you!? How? Ratchet told me keeping a spark was totally taboo, that it was actually considered stealing by the Senate!” Knock Out huffed an amused yet exhausted sigh. He’d brought this onto himself.

“Well, I had to get my rebel tendencies from somewhere now didn’t I? That’s all you’re getting. Let’s get some recharge I can already hear Smokescreen's vents rattling and I’d like to be unconscious before he starts revving his engine in his sleep.” Thankfully being the bot he was Bee backed off immediately. There was still plenty of roiling curiosity bubbling away in his processor but he was respectful. That was why Knock Out told him anything at all.

He’d thought Bee was long asleep when there was a sudden ping from his hud. A message. Knock Out considered even opening it but figured one more question couldn’t hurt. Even through nothing but glyphs Knock Out could tell Bee was trying to be as respectful as possible. “...Are they….still alive?” What a sap. Knock Out deleted the message leaving the question hanging. He didn’t want to think about it.

* * *

 

The heavy rain kept the trio to the tunnels of the city, meandering the best they could to get to new factories as fast as they could. With how big they were it was easy to drive but the dark shadows were playing tricks on Knock Out’s mind making it difficult to map and ignore the glitchy phantom driving beside him and the too close sounds of hidden wildlife was freaking out Bee and Smokescreen, their constant swerving away from walls and pipes driving Knock Out to his last nerve.

Speaking of his phantom, now that he and subsequently it had switched to alt mode Knock Out could notice more damage, it was driving on two flat back wheels, side view mirrors were cracked and paint was badly bubbled along the left side. With every twist and turn, actions were dropped in front of his optic like a gel film, distant and sketchy. The flashing red outcome generator which at first had just been a few unsure lines now sporting a solid seventy-five percent. It put him on edge. No amount of starting and quitting the actual program making it go away, no sonic mapping giving away any hidden assailants or dangerous infrastructure. If he was walking into danger and his processor was just trying to warn him then there should have been some calculable reason. Something he just wasn’t seeing but his senses were detecting...but there wasn’t. There was nothing. Spooky but ultimately boring. The moment his doppelganger started speaking to him then maybe he’d be more concerned.

No, right then his biggest concern was Smokescreen nearly ramming into him for the fifth time in an hour. Knock Out just narrowly dodged the frightened idiot without also slamming right into Bee who had inched so close unconsciously that it was truly a feat. Tired of it all Knock Out slammed his pedal to the floor kicking up dust and stagnant solvent in a massive wall of grime. By the time both Bot’s were free and swearing up a storm as they frantically tried to wipe themselves down Knock Out had transformed too and was giving them his best disapproving parent glare.

Bee wasn’t having it. “Hey Knock Out what the hell!”

“Yeah seriously K.O. this place has already ruined my new paint job I don’t need you making it any uglier by staining it black.”

Knock Out only smirked in Smokescreen’s general direction the action likely lost thanks to the blinding glare from his headlights. “ Good. The hell is you, two idiots, trying to box me in just because you’re scared of a few glitchrats and shadow clingers. What do you think we are a trine? I’m not here to protect you.”

“Well-” Bee was trying to keep his anger up while also hiding his obvious blush at being found out. It wasn’t really working for him. “Strength in numbers and all that. What if it’s not glitchrats what if it’s like insecticons or scraplets or...a crazy Decepticon who still lives here like freaking Shockwave was!”

“We iced Shockwave. His spark is in a box Bee.” Knock Out couldn’t comfort him on the other two. Scraplets could be anywhere but they had a distinctive sound about them and Insecticons had a certain smell. It was definitely glitchrats.

“I said like him! Someone else Starscream might have left here to rot I don’t know! It’s just dark and my scouting instincts aren’t really helping me map this place!”

“Right~ Get over it we’re here.” Thankfully the truth backed him up. Taking a sharp right Knock Out cautiously felt along the walls till he found the ladder he was looking for. “You first Smokescreen.”

Smokescreen balked at the order. “Why me?”

Knock Out irritably cocked a hip. “Aren’t you our sharpshooter scout now that Bumblebee’s been promoted? Get your aft up there and scout!”

“Who died and made you trine leader?” Despite the snark, Smokescreen was already making his way up the ladder.

Knock Out couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m the red one.”

* * *

  
Bee and Knock Out finally followed when Smokescreen gave them the all clear. No psychopathic hobos to worry about in this factory. What a surprise. They did happen to find the place still stocked with materials. Whatever this factory had been producing, no one wanted it.

“Look at all this raw metal just lying around. Bulkhead’s gonna cry.” Knock Out hummed in agreement as he mindlessly sorted out a few plated silver sheets from a bin of gold instinctively.

“Astounding that a mech like him would care so much about proper structure and form. It’s odd though that this one is still stocked out of all of them. It’s in a pretty difficult area to get to above so mechs would have had to have a good knowledge of the tunnels. Not to mention these metals….their essential metals.” Bee turned from his own snooping, confused.

“What’s important about that?” Knock Out unceremoniously tried to disperse the grease on his servos.

“Well, Bee if we manage to find a biomechanic lab haphazardly built here I’m going to guess that this was one of Megatron’s monster factories. Cold construction plant. I can at least say this place likely was the birthplace of a few Vehicons back in the day. Could find a few precious organs if it really is.”

Bee didn’t seem to like that news one bit. “No way. That’s too creepy!”

“For you. Keep an optic on Smokescreen I’m going to see if I can scrounge up a few sparks and t-cogs.” Bee was about to protest but the idea of following Knock Out into an organ farm terrified him into complying too many horror stories. Knock Out could only shake his head mockingly as he left the large production floor and headed out into a dark hallway. For a moment he was glad for the privacy, glaring hard into the shadowy corners of the long hall the dull neon blue outline of his phantom slowly blipped to life in the billowing dark. The numbers had dropped flickering between sixty and unsure blip lines. As equally foreboding at it was unhelpful.

Warily he pulled the gun from the holster he had strapped to his hip and primed it. The only reason Knock Out could guess for the sudden drop was him leaving Bee and Smokescreen behind like Bee said there was strength in numbers. No matter how much distance he put between him and the two Bot’s, however, the numbers never changed. Amazing.

After what felt like an hour of getting himself lost, the strong scent of industrial cleaner suddenly caught his attention. Either there was a refugee stuck somewhere in this place or the medical sector's power had been left on before evacuation and now was being powered again. Taking a few left turns he was greeted by a strange hiss from above and a rain of solvent as internal misters suddenly went off. Ah, sterility, nothing like the disgusting paint eating smell of it. As he’d suspected at the end of the hall a glaring deep rose light was bleeding out the small window of a well-armed door emblazoned with good old Soundwave’s face. No one ever did explain that slag to him and he’d stopped caring just blaming it on fanaticism at its worst.

Expecting a lock of some sort Knock Out wiped off the lingering droplets of cleaner before digging around in his subspace, servos locking around Breakdown’s old badge. Breakdown had given it to him to hold on to after a moral panic of some sort and not having one of his own to access Decepticon bases he let him keep it even after regaining his resolve. Knock Out could only hope it gave him clearance as he slapped it against the scanner.

Knock Out thanked Megatron’s bad habit of using every mech on his team as his personal errand boys regardless of rank as the door slowly hissed open. The pink light spilling out even further as computers and other equipment flared to life. “My, my. What do we have in here?”

Sealed up tight the room had remained clean and fairly unaffected by the long passage of time. A good thing for the dozen or so experiments still stuck marinating in the medical tubes. This was far past Shockwave’s work. It had personality, it had spark...more important sparklings. There was nothing Tarantulus had bitched about more than his mythical lost brood he’d been forced away from. It didn’t even stop at the dozen in the tubes, the mad scientist had also managed to stash away a whole freezer of sparks safely nestled away in their Octal carbon solution. Just as expected for a brilliant lunatic he’d also left his perfectly intact organ farm three or four poor self-regenerating sparks trapped in stasis and hooked up to a massive energon power converter. The Autobot’s certainly wouldn’t stand for this but Knock Out highly doubted the things were even fully functioning. On the positive yet morbid side, it was clear Tarantulus stored up a plenty good harvest. He’d make sure to hide those away before the others came in to likely torch the place.

Perhaps….turning back to the wall of fetal protoforms Knock Out flashed a picture of the lot and sent it off to Ratchet. They were short on mechs and giving them cold constructed frames designed by a lunatic or not they had a whole freezer of sparks they could be bringing to life. As he waited for the other medic’s reply he couldn’t help but glare at the almost finished protoform on the end. It was most likely meant to be a tank build by its size but...things could change and if not there were the others. The weight of Breakdown’s Decepticon insignia suddenly felt so heavy in his servos. His proper Decepticon brand, made from the shorn metal of his spark casting. It was a tempting thought. Starscream had pulled it off, hadn’t he? He’d learned plenty from Shockwave himself. How hard could it really be? As long as Ratchet convinced the Bots not to torch the place, as long as he could sneak away enough precious metal, pit he could design a whole new frame for Breakdown himself! It could all be just that easy. How would the Autobots react though? How much did he actually care? It would be hard to run if they weren’t sympathetic if they deemed the act a disgusting crime against Primus. How unfortunate he only find this laboratory now.

‘SWEET PRIMUS!’ Ratchet had finally responded, as over exaggerated as ever. Knock Out kept things clinical simply reporting on the status of the protoforms and the freezer of sparks. The other medic was comming him seconds later. “Is that the only thing you’ve found so far?”

“Considering we’re in a cold construction factory I’m going to say no. It’s a pretty big place and its full of metal. Haven’t checked any warehouse yet but this could just be a one mech operation.” The two discussed in less than hushed whispers what should be done. Eventually, Knock Out’s logic and Ratchet’s soft Autobot spark won out. Sweet victory. The thought of feigning sick, encouraging the other two to go on without him so he could sit and mull over actually starting the of making a clone of his almost conjunx was terribly tempting. He knew Bee wouldn’t stand for it, Ratchet would peg his slag in a second and, to be honest, the hollow smile of his mirror was creeping him out. Twenty percent. That was either very good or very bad and today wasn’t the day to take risks.

* * *

 

A tad bitterly Knock Out searched the rest of the plant alone and returned to Bee and Smokescreen, nothing more exciting in the place than a few era one vehicon shells just waiting for their sparks. The trio left, on to the next factory, then the next, and the next. They found a few decent gems; a Biomed plant that needed more exploring then they could allot, a small luxury brand factory that had the three tearing into boxes of abandoned million-year-old waxes, paints and pristine tires for hours, and last and honestly least interesting an old print shop where they all hunkered down for a few hours to refuel and recharge as it was the nicest place they’d been in all cycle. The smell of thinly pressed aluminum foil and million-year-old enamel perfuming the entire factory.

Just as he was getting comfortable with his cube and a saucy novel he’d rescued from its box Bee slumped down next to him with his own small stack and cube, a giddy smile on his face. “Hey, can you help me with these?” Knock Out side-eyed the bot, not nearly close to interested.

“That depends, what’s in it for me?” Bee looked aghast.

“Uh, the honor of helping your teammate duh.”

“Hmm~ Not interested.” Bee clicked his glossia in defeat as he slid over his first book.

“Fine, you can have one of my sweet oil jellies when we get ready to leave. Tell me what these are.” Knock Out looked over the book in his servos, the cover was colorful and vibrant with a tiny cartoonish aerial cheering on a poorly drawn hill.

“It’s a sparkling's flight manual. You trying to learn how to fly? I’ve got some terrible news for you.” Bee only rolled his optics.

“Tell me what it’s written in. Can you read it?”

“Are you admitting to me you can’t read bug? Do we need to talk to Magnus about this?

Bee sighed, clearly already regretting his deal. “I can read what Optimus, Elita, Ratchet, and Arcee taught me just fine. I just can’t read whatever these books are written in. I thought maybe you could. Play tutor with me?~”

Knock Out pretended to gag at Bumblebee’s cutsie optic cycling. “Fine. It’s in Vosian and ,of course, I can read it. It was the only language Starscream ever wrote in. Next.” Bee gave him what was clearly some ancient computer manual of some sort; the cover was an unimpressive blue with the simplistic framework of whatever it was meant to teach the mech about. Each profession on Cybertron had their own special language for their job and there were over one hundred different ones for engineer type fields. Most of which had all been taught to the Vehicons but Breakdown had downloaded the pack too. “It’s a computer manual. Witten in engineer shorthand. Find me this archaic piece of scrap and I might be able to salvage it for you. Next.” With a dramatic sigh Bee handed over his next book, clearly not getting what he wanted from this little game of his. The book he slipped into his servos was a medical text. “Are you trying to insult me?”

Bee didn’t even bother hiding his smile. “What do you mean?’

“This is a pathology book. It’s written in Ace. Were you hoping I couldn’t read this?!”

“No!” Bee’s nervous laughter gave him away. “Alright sort of. Ratchet didn’t tell me even medics had their own language. No wonder cybertronians were so distant from each other.” Knock Out couldn’t really comment on that. He knew all cybertronians knew neocybex along with their local languages but he didn’t know how much they leaned into them. Ace certainly seemed like a thing one just learned in university only used for research or perhaps to speak to colleagues in when patients were around not something they’d use recreationally. Then again he didn’t really know. He’d learned Ace through neutral medics his sires would take him to, then later Conduit. Gasglow had been a fairly good healer in his own right but he wasn’t trained.

Knock Out subspaced the book. “Certainly the Senate wanted it that way. Last one. I’m getting bored.” Forced to pick between what looked like another technical manual of some sort and a more childish book Bee handed over the illustrated one. Knock Out had to admit it was certainly a beautiful picture of Solas. He would have thought it was a religious text if it didn’t have the word ‘fables’ written across the top. He tsked Bee for his poor scouting. “Now Bumblebee where has your sense gone? Surely this must seem familiar, it’s been all around us! It’s Kaonite. It’s also a storybook, you interested in a bedtime story?”

“Hey! It’s been dark everywhere we’ve gone it’s not my fault, also yeah maybe I do. You understand all these languages, prove it! I’ll pick one out for you.”

Knock Out chuckled smugly as Bee handed the book back over. Shifted his back wheels up and laid back against the cleanest bit of floor he could find to get comfortable. “You know there’s nothing to stop me from lying and just making something up right?”

Bee was sporting his own smug grin. “Nope, not this time. I might not be able to read this stuff but I know that picture. I know this story. I’ll know if you lie.”

“Really~ What if I know this story and I’m just quoting it from memory?”

“Do you? Knock Out shot a look down to the page knowing full well he wouldn’t likely know it. He wasn’t raised on Cybertronian myths after all.”

“Shut up so I can read.”

* * *

 

Knock Out practically read the whole book for the bot only skipping over the few stories Bee supposedly didn’t like. At the end the only one who was out like a corpse was Smokescreen. The lucky slagger. Despite both of them having changed back to their alts and powering down Knock Out could still feel Bee’s field sneaking away from him. “I can tell you’re awake Bee. What do you want?”

Found out, Bee tripped over his words. “Well- I -um-well-It’s...you seem pretty calm this trip. Leaving us to go off on your own. Forgetting we’re here and going off to other factories without us. Like I know you’re a loner but it’s not like you to take risks like that. You even told Magnus you weren’t a fan of solo missions. I know we think we’re the only ones here but Cybertron’s been live for what, like three years now? There could be other mechs out there. Other Cons here. That doesn’t freak you out? You’re not mad at me, right? Is it the gun? Going from your staff to an actual weapon must be a pretty confidence boosting upgrade.” Knock Out muted a chuckle. It was that time of night again it seemed. This is what he hated about Bee, the bug almost made him feel bad for not opening up. Absolute nonsense.

“Yeah, it’s the gun. You got me.” Bee laughed too, clearly relieved. Had that what his little book stunt been for? To see if he was mad at him? Autobots. “I uh... didn’t mean to break protocol I promise so don’t go ratting me out to Magnus it’s just...this place reminds me a bit of home. Makes me comfortable. You’re right though I shouldn’t be lowering my defenses just because.” Kaon really did remind him of home. The musty tunnels, the rusting metal and corroded chemicals, the steady echo of beating rain, howling wind, and piercing silence. It was all nostalgic in a way.

“Did you live in Nyon? Rodimus told me that was a pretty industrial city. A lot of mechs...merchants...drug addicts.”

“No. Didn’t live in Nyon. Condolences to your friend though. Heard they blew that slagpit sky high. I can relate to that.” Bee was silent for a moment and Knock Out hoped he’d given the bot a big enough crumb to satisfy him.

“Really?” Damn it. Another silence bloomed between them before Bee spoke up again. “You know...and they told me not to tell you this because I wasn’t supposed to see it but... after Ratchet did your physical he listed your origin as non-native Cybertronian because of your spark structure and inner energon and some specific metals in your protoform. W-were you even from here Knock Out?” The thought sounded insane even to Bee. Knock Out knew so much about Cybertron, had yearned for it just like the others...but Ratchet was a professional and with what they knew had happened to most of the colony worlds? It wasn’t a shock.

Knock Out vented deeply as he silently swore up a storm. Here he’d been thinking Bee was just a curious little bug but what he really was was a snake. “I see and where does Ratchet think I’m from exactly?” Bee flashed his lights smugly. He could tell Knock Out was tilted.

“I don’t know but Magnus thinks you’re from Velocitron. Says the markings on your door are written in the language.” Of course, a mech like Ultra Magnus would know. Ancient slagger needed to put everyone in a neat little box to file away. He could still brush this off, lie, but...what was the point of lying to Bee?

“Perhaps I am, what about it?” The truth seemed to leave Bee flustered.

“N-nothing! Nothing. I just thought it would be cool. Magnus just told me not to bring it up with you because of….what happened. I tried to get Blurr to tell me about the place but...he didn’t want to talk about it. It’s okay if you don’t want to either I just thought...yeah.”

“Ah.” Knock Out let the silence linger. He couldn’t tell Bee anything anyway. Just stories Mach had told him. What wasn’t just a story now though? “I’ve never been to Velocitron. I’ll happily take the compliment though they’re supposed to be gorgeous mechs.”

* * *

 

The skies had finally cleared up so the trio were finally able to enjoy the dingy streets of Kaon for the first time since their arrival. They’d forgone the factories, with the actual promise of supplies Magnus was preparing to send a bigger team to help collect everything so they were allowed to enjoy themselves or in Magnus words “cause as little damage as possible”. So of course, Smokescreen was begging to go to the Pyramid. Knock Out didn’t bother putting up a fight even though he was positive it was going to be the most boring and likely most dangerous place they’d go to the whole trip even with the vivid red numbers blinking at only a two percent in the corner of his vision. At least he was able to enjoy the historical statues and monuments on the way.

The drive took hours through the tight winding streets, old streets by the looks of them, the metal pitted and scarred. Knock Out could only imagine what the place might have looked like with it was alive, when it was clustered with the desperately ambitious, the disposable, the discarded. When he dulled his senses to it all he could still almost hear the roar as it echoed off the towering buildings, Megatron’s will still trapped between the walls.

Starscream’s directions had been vague and romanticised but accurate enough and soon the three mechs were standing in the shadow of the massive metal pyramid. “Alright, here we are. Ooh~ Ahh~” Knock Out motioned to the building dramatically in his best imitation of a tour guide. It didn’t seem to be having an effect, Smokescreen and Bee already stunned by the base.

“So can you get us inside? I know you said you’ve never been here but...you gotta know like the passwords right?” Knock Out swayed slowly over, his servo smoothy transforming.

“I’ve got your password right here. Give me a minute.”

What was once likely a highly advanced door was now a massive hole as Knock Out kicked the slab off its sheared hinges. The scavengers best weapon: Helzian diamond platinum plated steel. Knock Out gave the side of the rapidly slowing blade a dramatic kiss before transforming his servo back. It was likely Breakdown’s brand could have saved them the trouble but where was the fun in that?

Bee let Smokescreen rush on in alone, as excited as he was to loot the big bad’s lair he didn’t want to lose sight of Knock Out this time. “No wonder Ultra Magnus warned us to stay three meters away from you at all times. Where the hell did you even get that thing?”

Knock Out bowed slightly, taking the news as a compliment. “Where I’ve gotten anything else of value Bumblebee, the black market.”

“Sooooo Swindle or Lockdown.”

“You’re learning. Let’s go on this fun history tour. You think Old Megs will have a gift shop?”

Bee shrugged slyly “Who knows but if not I think we can make our own.”

* * *

  
The stronghold was just as massive as it had looked from the outside, starting at nothing but a narrow obsidian paved hall that branched out into room after room. Most of which were all boring unless one was a fanatic purveyor of ancient tech or dust. It was nothing the Autobots would ever need but there was a chance Wheeljack could use the parts.

The secret of Megatron’s pyramid it seemed was that it went as far down as it went up so as Bee managed to pry open an elevator the two were left with a choice. Knock Out distinctly remembered Breakdown mentioning that he and the other Stunticons had rooms underground but Bee was Pitbound on finding Starscream’s old quarters so he could ransack the place and rub it in the jet’s face. Ergo up. Who was Knock Out to turn that down?

It turned out to be a pretty easy search. While not at the top of the pyramid the seeker's room was along what could have been considered the walls of the structure. A room with a view, a room with a big wide window to escape from. It was almost depressing how furnished the place still was, cluttered with Vosian art and furniture, the room itself still laden with the smell of incense and fine oils. As Bee near giggled in delight in tearing the room apart to find something incriminating Knock Out wandered over to one of the wide closets. Like the whole room itself, it was stuffed with things Starscream likely never got a chance to wear. Trunks of silks and jewelry. Crates of fine paints and waxes. Bits and pieces of armor that were likely keepsakes from destroyed frames. He subspaced quite a few things before heading over to the small floating berth in the corner of the room. He didn’t expect to find much but with how much stuff Starscream had needed to leave behind there was always a chance.

There was indeed nothing obvious save for a fairly thick book wedged between a peeling shelf panel. Knock Out needed only one guess to figure out what it was. The hunky aerial on the cover sure helped. Ruling out all the disgusting things the book could have come in contact with because it was Starscream’s and the mech was neurotic he subspaced it as well. Poor jailbird needed something to pass the time. It was then that he slipped free. With Bee still on a quest for blackmail Knock Out promised he would only continue on down the hall before actively heading to the stairs they had passed deeming the elevator too much of a noise risk. Knock Out didn’t really know what to expect if he managed to find Breakdown's old room but the urge wouldn’t leave him.

The underground of the pyramid was a tad more treacherous goings with less amount of light. Like the power to the elevator, there were a few safety lights still weakly glowing embedded along the ceiling but his headlights still had to do most of the work. Surprisingly it wasn’t that much of a search, at some point and time one of the team had roughly painted the Stunticon logo on the door. He’d nearly walked right past it. With more assistance from his saw, he was in.

The barracks were certainly less posh than Starscream’s room, not surprising since they were lower ranked soldiers and the room had to sleep all of them. They’d clearly left in a hurry, the room an utter mess. Still reeking of Dragstrip’s favored upholstery cologne. Familiar and almost comforting. All it needed was the sound of Motormaster and Wildrider’s snoring and it would be like he was just getting off shift.

Breakdown’s berth was so obvious. The walls around it tacked with pictures of hulking tanks and trucks and just a few slim pretty racers. Knock Out could only imagine when the thing had last been swabbed down so he sunk down onto what was likely Dead End’s instead as he tried to spy anything worth taking. Most of everything left looked to be Dragstrip’s or Motormaster’s. A few cans of cheap wax, a few blasters that he couldn’t lift if his life depended on it. There was something odd though. A shelf riveted to the bottom of Breakdown’s berth.

Dragging himself back to his peds Knock Out dug his talons into the lip of the drawer and tugged until the lock popped open. There were only three things inside. A half-empty pack of cygarettes, an old camera, and a pudgy journal. Knock Out took all three and headed back to Dead End's berth. Flicking on his torch he lit one of the cygarettes, taking a long satisfying drag. They weren’t very good. Stale as scrap but it had been forever. Seemed his phantom was enjoying one too...odd. The numbers had gone up again to fifty percent so either these things were laced or those fucking numbers didn’t mean slag. Knock Out tossed the rest of the pack at the figment, the outline wavering badly as it sailed right through.“Not gonna warn me if these things are poisoned? At least do your job you fuck.” It didn’t respond. Small blessings.

With only one free servo Knock Out messily unwrapped the tie around the journal causing dozens of photos to spill out over his lap. Slowly he sifted through the pile of strange and often familiar faces, putting them all neatly in a stack till one stalled him. Dad...or old man as he loved being called.

Gasglow had never been a handsome mech, not with his scarred face, pitted frame, bushy sideburns, greasy servos, disastrous paint scheme...the list went on but he was hard to mistake. Knock Out had often wondered how a mech like Mach had fallen in love with a mech like him, put next to each other they looked even more insane but it was undeniable they loved each other. Mach would never get closer than five feet to any other mech in fear of them staining his paint and there he was sitting in Gasglow’s lap, bickering with the mech over something or other like it was nothing.

And then there was him, trying to sell something to some Decepticon he couldn’t place. Knock Out couldn’t believe how young he looked. He still had his original peds! That old helm, Primus he’d been so proud of it and Mach must have had so much restraint no not have ripped it off his head and thrown it into a smelting pot. Breakdown must have candidly taken the shot because for the life of him Knock Out couldn’t remember the day, then again he couldn’t remember a time meeting Breakdown before the day he’d rescued him. The business just got so many mechs. Yet as he turned the picture over the back was inscribed. ‘Best traders in the galaxy. If you need anything call them’ and then the old ship's frequency. Slowly Knock Out ran a digit over the numbers. How long had it been since he’d tried calling home, since he’d given up, moved on?

Knock Out shook the photo lightly as he turned back to the shadowy corner to face his doppelganger, the numbers above the mech nothing but lines. Usually an indicator of when the program was just about to be shut off. “Is this what you’re here for? To make me find this and convince me to, what? Call my parents? All this nothing but a fucking cognitive treasure hunt guilt trip from myself? Ugh.” As he put the picture into the pile along with the rest and quickly shuffled them all back in the notebook to subspace them the program glitched bad, splitting and fraying and when the picture came back together the numbers had changed. One hundred percent. “What in the pit is this now?” Just as the words left his mouth a blaring siren started up outside and his communicator started to beep frantically. Smokescreen. Primus help him.

* * *

 

Knock Out could only guess what stupid thing Smokescreen had done but there were fucking drones everywhere! The worst part is they weren’t even the smart ones which meant no amount of screaming that he was a Decepticon medical officer rank and serial ME6-892 would stop their bullets. No, era one Vehicons had only been built for one purpose and one purpose only, kill anything on sight and try they did but they were still Vehicons and if Knock Out could do one thing well it was kill poor innocent drones and put them out of their misery. Even if these ones had better armor and fully integrated weapons.

Unfortunately, Bee and Smokescreen weren’t fairing as well as he was when Knock Out finally caught up to them. Expecting Vechs that would run away and go down in one hit, they’d clearly been dogpiled and torn to shreds, both leaving trails of energon as they ran.

“What in the hell are you two doing so far down here?! Exits on the main floor or higher!” Bee only shot him an annoyed glare.

“What are we doing? Looking for you! You lied to me Knock Out! What are you even doing down here!” Primus of course Autobot sensibilities!

“Whatever! No time for nonsense. Get to the damn elevator.”

“It’s jammed! Overcapacity.” Knock Out growled bitterly.

“That doesn’t matter we’ll climb-”

“There are stairs-”

Knock Out cut Bee off just as swiftly. He may not have lived in the base but he knew the sort of slag Soundwave pulled. “That won’t be stairs anymore by the time we get there so just go!”

With a murderous entourage behind them, the three raced to the elevator. Knock Out ripping open the doors as best he could. Just enough for all three of them to sneak in and land harshly on top of the stuck elevator a fair distance below. Most of the drones that had been trapped inside had already shot themselves free leaving the roof horribly unstable.

No time to waste Knock Out quickly dropped to a knee to give Bee a lift up. With his mangled arm, there would be no way he could pull himself up. “Smokescreen go first. That way if he falls I won’t have to take his whole weight.” Not like he couldn’t. At one point in his life he’d been able to fireman carry Breakdown like it was nothing..now though? It had been a long time since he was that mech.

“Gottcha K.O.” Launching himself as far up as he could Smokescreen started climbing, small waterfalls of energon still seeping from his leg and side. For a moment Knock Out considered calling him back, doing a quick patch job but then the floor doors they’d jumped down from started to rattle violently.

“Hey what? No!” Bee didn’t get any room to protest as Knock Out lifted the other lightweight by his thighs and tossed him up nearly smacking him right into Smokescreen’s aft. Thank Primus he still had something of his old strength left. “Knock Out!” Bee’s warning was unnecessary.

“Climb Bee!” Tearing his pistol from its holster Knock Out trained it at the opening doors. The gun wavered badly in his nervous servos but as the first Drone popped his head through Knock Out fired till it was landing at his peds. Knock Out managed to hold the drones fire till their stupidity reared its ugly head. Desperate to reach their objective more and more drones had arrived at the doors, all eager to get the job done.

With over a dozen being pushed over the edge like lemmings Knock Out was forced to jump, getting the cable just in time as it started to fray and snap just an inch beneath him. In a sudden wave of nausea and pain he felt shots start to hit home and as he glared up into the blaring red emergency light high above him his vision swarmed, his HUD suddenly becoming clustered as not only his phantom but mangled dying simulacrums of Bee and Smokescreen also started to race across his vision like a gruesome flipbook right across his optics. Numbers jumping into frame with each and every action. Two percent. Ten percent Three percent. Twenty-one. None of them good.

A painful tug on his ped pulled him from the mess as he tried to desperately shake off the fallen drone that had grabbed onto him. He wasn’t budging. In a panic, he went right to his saw and in a second it was gone. The doomed drone's last shot burst his other tire ricocheting off the wall and scorching Smokescreen’s back. Knock Out didn’t realize he’d let go until he’d felt Bee’s servo around his wrist. The murder picture show returned with a vengeance, making his head pound and his processor glitch. Knock Out desperately searched through the mess of unsatisfying outcomes as Bee screamed at him to focus. There was no point. The cable was coated in energon now, the drones were still firing, Bee's grip was too weak to pull him up and if he used Bee to pull himself up the weight would send Bee falling. There was no way. Except one. Eighty-four percent? It would have to do.

With a deep invent Knock Out relaxed his grip, the energon coating Bee’s servo doing the rest of the work. As he slipped free Bee dropped without any hesitation to catch him, getting his servo easily by the base...but that’s all he got. With the free fall and Smokescreen desperately yanking Bee back up the magnetic connection that held Knock Out’s servo in place broke sending the rest of him free-falling down the elevator shaft with the rest of the drones.

As the shadows raced past him the only thought that filled Knock Out’s head was ones of disgust. What had these Autobots done to him? He should have left them to rot, should have escaped with his own life and went for help at least. This is what happens when you play hero, you die. He...wasn’t playing hero though really now was he? No. He was just playing a numbers game. That’s all.

* * *

 

“Doc? Doc~ Knocky come on it’s time to get up.” Knock Out groaned. Was he dying? Was this the best coma dream his processor could manage or was this just an ordinary dream. Would he even be able to tell with how fragged up his brain had become?

“You gotta get moving. No one’s coming to help. We’re all on our own now.” All on our own. When wasn’t he? As he attempted to online he was met with a searing ache all over. His dull lazy wail echoed all around him. “I know. Here let me go get your ped.” His ped? What happened to his ped? Oh~ right he fell down thirty story shaft. “Knocky~ I forgot. I can’t pick things up.”

What? Grimacing slightly Knock Out finally managed to online, optics flaring to life, the red light bouncing off the tight walls. Well...at least the one optic he had left. Thankfully he could still see out of the other one but it was blurry and fractaled. Out of his good optic, he saw a sketchy framework of Breakdown hunched over one of his peds trying desperately to pick it up. His servos kept phasing through. What the hell was this? A ghost? No...that was stupid.

Breakdown looked over to him, guilt and pity in his optics. “I’m sorry I did this to you Knocky...I hope I made the right decisions for you.” Pushing himself off a dead Vehicon beneath him Knock Out managed to get to his knees. Crawling wasn’t the most dignified thing to do but he didn’t have much of a choice. He was busted and clearly going insane.

“What are you even talking about? I chose to go on this stupid mission.” As he grabbed for his ped Breakdown stated to glitch, the lines feathering till the image winked out all together only to be replaced by himself. His ghost.

“Of course you did. You’re the only mech you really listen to. Get your aft moving, you’re leaking to death.” Clutching at his head Knock Out pushed through the horrible grating echo of his own voice. How was this happening? What was even happening?

“What even is this?! Who are you?” Knock Out didn’t know what he was expecting. It was a glitch it had to be...but it felt so real, his mangled mirror, Breakdown, all too real.

His copy only gave him a disapproving glare, “You know what I am. I already told you.” Before winking out of existence.”

Well...that was cryptic. Hopefully, Ratchet would have something for him if he managed to get back to base. With a heavy sigh, he yanked his ped closer and got to work when he felt a soft kiss on his helm.

“Don’t worry Knocky, I’m right here. We’re gonna get through this. We always do.” Knock Out let his servo slip to Breakdown’s knee. It slipped through...but only just.

“We do.”

* * *

 

Bee and Smokescreen had barely gotten back to base with their lives. The drones had chased them practically to the edge of the city and without Knock Out they’d spent most of the flight home leaking to death. Ratchet had to pull them out of the ship. Bee vaguely remembered Ratchet and Ultra Magnus screaming at them about Knock Out but he’d been too out of it. He remembered trying, waving the medic’s servo fruitlessly but Ratchet only took it from him.  
It took three days before Bee was conscious enough to tell the others what happened.  
It took another cycle for the team to get their acts together. Bee and Smokescreen both spent their time licking their wounds in a heavy malaise fully expected them to bring home a corpse and it was their fault. So the two were more than surprised when they heard the sound of two bickering medics making their way to the lab.

Knock Out looked horrible, Bee would have sworn he was a terrorcon if he wasn’t going on about Ratchet leaving him be as the older mech dragged him into the medbay. “I told you I can do this myself! I managed to get up a thirty-floor elevator shaft by myself I don’t need your rusting aft-”

“Just shut your stupid mouth and get on the table! That hack job on your leg is about two seconds from giving out”

“IT IS NOT! I did it myself with the proper equipment. I would have finished if Bulkhead and that flashy busybody and his lapdog you sent hadn’t dragged me back here thinking I was delusional!”

“I gave Drift the order myself to make sure you didn’t do anything stupid and fueling up on million year rations and trying to wire suture all your injuries is not proper procedure!”

“Well, I couldn’t weld them! Bee stole my servo! The least he could have done was drop it down the hole with me.” Eventually, Ratchet got Knock Out laid out onto the table and eventually they’d quieted their fight but Ratchet had kicked Bee and Smokescreen out by then.

By the time Ratchet was done Knock Out was looking worse for wear but Ratchet had cleaned him up a lot. He at least had a little bit of his normal sway as he made his way into the common room. Single servo on his hip and optics narrowed to a glare. "Which one of you has it?" Smokescreen took no time ratting Bee out. Bee tried not to look as guilty as he was.

"I-well I tried to give it back but Ratchet was shoving us out of there. It's not my fault." Knock Out didn't look convinced.

"You shouldn't have had it anyway. It's not a toy."

Bee couldn't help but waggle his optics ridges, "Says who?" The look of disgust that twisted Knock Out's face was priceless.

"Do I need to sanitize it? Do you need to sanitize it before you hand it over to me? Don't lie I will check." Bee rolled his optics as he pulled the appendage from his subspace.

"No. I just took it....who cares what I took it for. Here."

"Didn't think I'd survive? Now, Bee, I'm an Autobot now I figure I'm allotted at least a dozen miracle comebacks." Bee shrugged as he handed Knock Out's servo over.

"Maybe, but the situation we left you in you should have come out way worse." Knock Out only responded with a considering hum as he realigned the magnets in his wrist till it popped cleanly back on.

"Mechs like me are hard to kill Bee. It's a family trait."

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! Kudo's, comments, requests welcome and appreciated!


End file.
